Counter Strike Bloodshed Dawn
by Headshot
Summary: Hi all, this is my first fanfic. Spirit Dragon helped me edit a lil bit but mostly it's all my work Muahahah.(joking). anyway, tell me how i can improve on writing by R & R ing. thanks guys :)


Hi all, this is my 1st fanfic so be nice to me )

Disclaimer: The Counter-Strike series does not belong to me. It belongs to Valve.

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Counter-Strike : Bloodshed Dawn

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Renard Perez, American-born Brazilian, sat in the driver seat of a BMW Z8 sports car. He was dressed in a black t-shirt with the words "Domination" printed in big bold words across it. He also wore a khaki colored jacket to keep him shielded from the cold. With dark sunglasses and a crew cut, he looked ready for the mission.

He stared blankly at the digital clock in the car, which showed 2029 hours. The moment it changed to 2030 hours, his mobile phone rang.

Renard smiled. Always on time, he thought. Answering the call, he noted that it was his boss, Arnold "Bulldog" Granger.

"It's time." Arnold spoke, "Commence Operation Bloodshed Dawn."

"Yes, sir!" Renard replied.

Walking out of the car, He took his laptop and his dual M9 pistols, and walked into the car park of the thirty-floored Hotel packed with tourists. Two Phoenix Connexion terrorists with bullet-proof Kevlar vests and facemasks dressed in their standard uniforms, each holding onto large bags filled with C4s in one hand, and AK-47s in the other, strode out of the car and followed Renard. When they arrived at the car park, the two terrorists split up, each planting a computer-controlled C4 explosive on a pillar. These highly trained men took only five minutes to place C4s the size of a man's palm onto each pillar.

Renard kneeled down, set up his laptop, and put the bombs to stand-by mode.

He grinned an evil grin. _This time, America will pay._

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Meanwhile, 2 couples were indulging in a delicious dinner at a nearby restaurant. They were in the midst of chatting about their childhood days when SWAT operative Ryan "Blackbird" Townes' mobile phone rang. He answered the call. It was his commander, Bruce Burton, on the other line.

"Ryan, you and your partner are needed at the Palace Hotel now. There's a group of idiotic terrorists trying to bomb that damned building now. Go there and take 'em out NOW!" Bruce commanded.

"Right away, sir!" replied Ryan, and cut the line.

He told the others the bad news, put the mobile in his shirt pocket, and told his partner, Reggie "Pinpoint" Jones, that they had a mission to do. Sighing, Reggie got out of his seat, and bid farewell to his wife.

"Be safe okay?" whispered Ryan's wife, Jane Alexander.

"I promise." came the reply from Ryan, and ran off in the direction of their car.

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They were driving at 120km/h, 60 more than the speed limit, but were more concerned towards the mission rather than some stupid rules and regulations. After driving for exactly five minutes, they arrived at their destination, Palace Hotel. There was nothing out of the ordinary there except for the ring of police cars surrounding the building.

Ryan parked the car outside the entrance of the basement car park, and quickly jumped out with Reggie. They opened the boot of the car, which revealed an arsenal of weapons and ammunition. Ryan and Reggie put on their SWAT gear, which consisted of a Kevlar bulletproof vest, a helmet, and black leather gloves. They took hold of their weapons and other equipment, cocked them, and closed the boot.

"Time for some serious butt-kicking." Ryan commented, hefting his primary weapon.

The two of them silently crept into the large car park, scanning for the tiniest bit of movement. Unknown to them, the terrorists had already hacked into the video cameras on the walls, allowing them to see anybody.

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"Oh fuck!" came the voice of one of the Phoenix Connexion terrorists with the AK. "Just what we need, SWAT operatives to screw our Asses!"

Renard never acknowledged his teammate's comment, eyes fixed on the laptop screen in front of him. He typed rapidly on the keyboard, he set the time for the various C4s planted on the pillars to blow up. The screen showed 150 seconds, and with a final click of the Enter key, Renard initiated the countdown.

"This was going to be interesting indeed," thought Renard.

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The two SWAT men went into the car park as one and split up, using the pillars as cover. Ryan had a Sig 552 Krieg Commando, while Reggie had a Steyr Aug rifle, and both had IMI Desert Eagles as their secondary armaments.

They were about 5 meters from the bomb countdown laptop when suddenly Reggie held up a hand and curled his fist into a tight ball. Ryan froze in his tracks, bringing his Steyr Aug to bear, muzzle in the direction of the laptop. Reggie told his partner to sprint to the other side, and he would throw a flash-bang. Ryan complied, running as silently as he could to the other pillar next to Reggie's. He gave a thumbs up signal, and Reggie pulled the safety pin off his flash-bang and threw it across the car park where he had spotted some movement.

He heard a yelp of pain as the flash-bang exploded right in front of a terrorist, and had blinded him. The terrorist stood there rubbing his eyes, not knowing the danger he was in. Ryan brought his Sig 552 up and fired a short burst. Several 5.56mm rounds flew out from the muzzle of the Sig 552, speeding towards their target with deadly accuracy. The rounds penetrated the flesh of the blinded terrorist, catching him off guard. He fell to the floor with a loud thud.

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, 5 7.62mm bullets soared through the air, and Reggie recognised the clatter of an AK-47. Unfortunately for Ryan, one of the bullets connected with his right hand and ripped off his thumb and index finger.

"Fuck!" he swore, taking the bandage from his pocket with his left hand and wrapped it around the injured part. Hearing the clatter of the AK, Reggie swung out of the protection of the pillar and fired his Steyr Aug's 30 round clip in the terrorist's direction. The staccato rhythm of the Steyr's discharge mixed with the heavy bass of the Austria-made weapon. The rounds shredded the man's body, leaving splats of blood on the pillar behind him. He slumped to the ground, eyes wide with his mouth in mid scream.

Reggie rammed a fresh clip into his Steyr Aug and ran to the laptop that was showing the C4's time of 15 seconds to detonation, set the timer back to the maximum time, which was 60 seconds, and began to cut the sequence.

However, he was oblivious to the danger lurking behind him. Arnold crouched 2 meters behind him, and fired once with one of his dual M9 pistols. Reggie staggered back, the force of the bullet throwing him to the ground. He ripped off his gasmask and helmet, and his eyes met Renard's. The terrorist fired, four 9-millimetre copper-jacketed steel snatched away Reggie's life. Renard bent down and continued the sequence of the c4's countdown, which showed 20 seconds left.

All of a sudden, Renard heard the firing of a Desert Eagle. He looked back, seeing Ryan holding an IMI Desert Eagle in the left hand, squeezing the trigger every split second. Renard drew his other M9 and started firing them madly. He knew that Desert Eagles only had seven rounds of ammunition and that the enemy would have to reload soon.

He never knew that Ryan was a master of speed.

Ryan was circle-strafing him, and needed the split second to reload his Deagle. He ducked into a pillar without any rounds in his Deagle's clip, and came out the other side of the pillar with seven. "This guy's good!" Renard muttered and fired again and again. After a few seconds of mad shooting, the two men came face to face, a meter and a half apart, guns smoking and without ammunition. They froze for a few moments before backing off to reload their guns. They went to the same pillar, back to back, but only Renard reloaded. Ryan waited for the sound of Renard's gun to cock after the reload. Then he heard it, the sound of metal against metal.

"Go to hell you mother-fucking son-of-a-bitch!" Ryan muttered as he unsheathed his dagger, jumped out, and slit the terrorist's throat in one smooth movement. Arnold was caught off guard in surprise. Blood was gushing out of the open wound. He slumped to the floor, dead. Ryan glanced at the laptop screen, and to his horror, saw it counting down from 3 to 0.

Ryan ran, he ran for his life, he ran for his wife, his children, his country, but he never made it out alive.

A series of loud explosions sounded. Ryan looked around him, the warriors of the fiery hell closing in. He said the Lord's Prayer in one second, and was charred by the flames around him. Even if he'd survived the firestorm, he still wouldn't have survived the forty stories of cement and metal crushing him like a chair crushing an ant.

Terrorists WIN

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So, how'd u guys think of my 1st fic? It was based on a movie called "Counter-Strike : The Movie" Pls R & R guys!!


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